


Wounds

by Northflower



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Angst, Gen, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northflower/pseuds/Northflower
Summary: Brightpaw is brought back to camp to try and get her to heal.As a matter of fact, she herself doesn't wish to heal.





	Wounds

When Brightpaw first woke up, she couldn’t feel anything. The only thing she could see was a blinding light in her eyes. The sun was somehow brighter than ever, invading her vision, rousing her from sleep. She briefly attempted to raise her head, but she was either too broken or too exhausted. So she gave up trying and instead tried to focus her blurry gaze on the patch of white and black at the corner of her vision. Her head hurt the more she tried, so she gave up again. Her paws were painted red from blood that was certainly her own. The pads were torn, glimmering with the same scarlet color. But it didn’t smell like blood, in fact, nothing smelled like anything. Or maybe everything smelled like blood. Or maybe she was dead. She wouldn’t mind, she thought, as the world got blurry again and the darkness at the edges of her vision swallowed her whole.

Her and Swiftpaw were walking through the pitch-black forest at night. The moon was floating above them, illuminating everything in a pale light, causing his eyes and whiskers and her nervous, unsheathed claws to shine. Swiftpaw didn’t seem to be at all on edge but was rather padding with his head upright from the determination that she so admired. This is what they had to do. A crow screamed, and the ginger she-cat felt her fur fluff up, even though the night was one of the warmer once, only a light breeze swimming through the trees and causing leaves to rattle. She was vaguely aware that they were on the wrong side of the wind and that the dog could smell them before they reached it, but Swiftpaw didn’t seem worried, so neither was she. Or at least tried very hard not to be. It was just one dog. There were two of them. They were strong, they didn’t need the other apprentices. They were going to be warriors, Swiftpaw had said, they were faster and better than that kittypet Cloudtail would ever be. Brightpaw flinched at his harsh wording but still felt her claws tingle at the thought of Cloudtail’s fur shining bright in the morning sun, but not as bright as his eyes when Bluestar lifted him above all the other apprentices, and for what? Because Swiftpaw had gone to get help during a battle? Because she had completely lost her mind? Brightpaw gritted her teeth in slight anger. As Swiftpaw had said, they would prove themselves tonight. They would show Bluestar. She had to come with, so that she could share the honor. She would stand beside Swiftpaw in front of their clanmates as Bluestar would have to admit their bravery. This is what Brightpaw wanted. She wasn’t afraid.

She wasn’t.

The second time she woke up, there was no more light. She thought the night had come, but then realized that the black and white patch wasn’t in her vision anymore. And she wasn’t lying on the cold ground, but on something soft and slightly prickly instead. She tried to move her limbs, but still couldn’t. She was aching all over, especially in the eye… And there was something over her eye. She could smell the familiar herbs of the medicine den. She hated the medicine den, all those sharp smells mixed made her want to throw up, but she never could. Now, she supposed there was nothing left to vomit, surely she would’ve already if there was. She felt empty, weak and dull. There were sounds but her ears were humming, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint what they were. Honestly, she didn’t really even care. That’s when she became aware of another cat near her, rummaging through the holes in the walls. For a moment Brightpaw felt hopeful; was it Swiftpaw? But she soon recognized the way the other cat moved and knew it wasn’t him. A wave of disappointment and guilt washed over her. She knew the cat’s name, she was the medicine cat… but she strained trying to remember the name over the streams of thoughts that were flowing inside her head, mixing and changing, it was difficult to keep them on the task at hand… Wind? Ginger? Winter, Whimper, Injure…

Pain soared through Brightpaw’s paw and she winced and hopped on three legs a few times before stopping to examine her pads. Swiftpaw stopped as well and they looked at her bleeding, scarlet paw. There was a sharp, small bone of a small prey animal, perhaps a mouse sticking from the pulsing skin. Cats wouldn’t leave bones lying around. They were close. So they kept walking, even though Brightpaw’s pads protested by sending a sharp stab of pain through her with every step closer to the dog. The first thing she saw was a glint of bared teeth in the moonlight. The dog was huge. Swiftpaw snarled and unsheathed his claws, she followed suit, and they approached the growling animal in sync, walking in patterns they’d been taught when preparing to kill prey bigger than themselves. They’d planned to just scare it away, but surely it would be even more impressive to bring the corpse back to camp. She wasn’t sure of dog was edible, but she and Swiftpaw glanced at each other in agreement, clearly considering the same thing. Swiftpaw’s eyes were bright with excitement. Then, a rustle behind them revealed that the dog wasn’t by itself. Brightpaw spun around to face the new threat, but there wasn’t just one. She could see three pairs of eyes shining in the moonlight. The branches of the trees above them casted small shadows over them as they faced the pack, slowly approaching from all directions. They were trapped.

The third time she woke up, it was to hushed sounds. It was difficult to make out words as her ears were filled with a high-pitched sound, not quite like the wind, more like a mouse that was screaming as a hunter failed to kill it quickly. The pain was stronger this time. Opening her eye that didn’t have herbs on it, she could glimpse a few different cats. Cloudtail, undoubtedly, was the one shining in the faint sunlight coming through the entrance, the others were more difficult to recognize as they were standing in front of the light, merely dark shapes blocking the sun. One of them, the one moving with some difficulty, was likely… Cinderpelt. Brightpaw couldn’t quite tell what they were saying, but she thought Cinderpelt said she might not make it. She could die. Hopefully she would. They talked more, but she didn’t understand. Their hushed voices rose to angry yowls and Brightpaw’s head felt heavy, like someone was crushing her skull. Please stop crushing my skull. Please be quiet. But they wouldn’t, they kept yelling, Cloudtail’s voice above all of them, they were arguing, argue somewhere else! She just wanted to sink away, back to sleep, die. But she could still hear the howls as she slipped to unconsciousness.

Suddenly, one of the dogs howled a command for the others to attack. Swiftpaw screamed, the trees, and started running towards the tallest one while dodging jaws snapping at him. A patch of fur was snatched from his side and Brightpaw realized she was following behind him. They had to dive under one of the dogs in order to get past it, hopefully confusing it to give them enough time to climb up, the dogs were behind them now, Swiftpaw was faster than her, and he leaped up and attached himself to the bark before starting to climb. Brightpaw’s jump fell a little shorter and her stomach lurched as she slipped a bit, but then she caught her grip and pulled herself up the tree, as fast as she could, dogs couldn’t climb trees, right? Swiftpaw was above her, having reached a high-enough branch and waiting for her to get up there. She looked behind her, but she shouldn’t have, as she only saw teeth wrap themselves around her tail and just like that she was yanked back down, she broke a claw, onto the ground, except that she didn’t have time to reach the ground, she was falling helplessly until one of the dogs snapped at her face and held her there, there was pain, pain, pain, blood and pain. Red blood in the moonlight, red blood against the green grass, red blood on her ginger fur. Then she was in the air, blood in the night breeze, and then another one of those creatures caught her in its enormous jaws, teeth sinking into her fur, and it shook her. She had given up the fight, flailing limp as the world spun around her. She wished she could just die already, fly away like the blood in the wind, disappear in the grass like the orange patches of fur falling onto the ground, wither away like a flower that had been ripped away from its roots.

The fourth time she woke up, the world wasn’t a blur anymore and the stench in the air wasn’t blood but drying herbs instead. Instantly, a wet piece of moss and a small shrew were shoved in front of her muzzle. She didn’t touch the shrew as she felt like she would throw up but still sucked hungrily at the moss. Cinderpelt spoke to her, tried to get her to eat, but even though Brightpaw could hear her voice she still didn’t really care to listen. There was some long, white fur stuck to her own ginger pelt but washing it away felt pointless. The already dulled pain was making her clutch at the bedding with her claws, noticing she’d lost a couple of them. They might’ve felt sore if she wasn’t distracted by all the other pain already. Some of it was from the wounds. As Cinderpelt lapped away the herbs on top of her eye to replace them with fresh ones, she expected the faint light of the evening to flow into it, but instead she only saw the darkest night with no stars, or the moon.

Brightpaw closed her eyes but instantly regretted it as the pain was magnified, she could feel her broken claws, broken teeth, broken face, broken flesh, and all of it was screaming for help, screaming at her to _make it stop_ but she didn’t know how. Except by dying. She probably would, as even though the teeth weren’t on her now they would soon be again. She could feel them approaching behind her closed eyelids, if she even had those anymore after being ripped apart, a piece of prey being slaughtered. Brightpaw was afraid of opening her eyes because then she’d have to see it happen, but the pain was so great that she did anyways. She had been right. The hungry eyes and shiny teeth were illuminated by the moonlight as one of the beasts lazily ran towards her. This would be the end. She didn’t mind. But then there were claws on its nose that weren’t hers, and Swiftpaw was standing in front of her protectively, his shadow falling on her. _No!_ She wanted to yell at him to run, but her voice was stuck in her throat, broken like the rest of her. She wanted to reach out to push him, hurt him, until he would just _go_. But she couldn’t move, she was stuck on the ground, motionless, helpless to do anything when Swiftpaw’s snarl was cut as two of them attacked, now he was in the air like Brightpaw had been, and she wondered how someone who always seemed so strong and so big could now look so small, like a leaf in the wind as the teeth tore him apart. She didn’t get to see all of it, but the barks of the hunters and the pained howls of the hunted would haunt her nightmares for many moons to come.

The fifth time she woke up he tore the herbs from her face. Cloudtail was beside her somehow and stopped her, offered her the shrew, told her that he could get her something else if she didn’t like it, but Lostface stayed quiet. She felt hot, burning anger somewhere deep inside her empty eye socket; how could Cloudtail be so calm? How could he act like Swiftpaw hadn’t been ripped to pieces, like his body hadn’t been rotting next to Lostface’s unfortunately still living one up until dawn? Like half of her hadn’t also been torn away, like everything was somehow alright, like Lostafce hadn’t gotten her warrior name, like it wasn’t Starclan laughing at her, isn’t this what they had wanted? She wanted to slash the white tom across the face with her remaining claws. But truthfully, that wasn’t why she was angry. Those weren’t the reasons she despised what Cloudtail was doing. It was the fact that Cloudtail was acting like she wasn’t worthless, after letting Swiftpaw die in front of her, instead of her, _for her_.

Despite her wishes at that moment, Lostface would wake up many more times.


End file.
